Guerrilla
by troublesofthebrain
Summary: After suffering from a nuclear winter called 'The Calm', the world was finally starting to return to normal. That was until, the firebending revolutionaries named the Agni's attacked. Set in a modern world, the Gaang need to do whatever they can to protect their home from the Agni's growing army. But can becoming Guerrilla warriors really save their home, or condemn it? Zutara AU


**IMPORTANT A/N**:  
First of all, this AU is set in more of a modern type world where things like guns, planes, tanks, and nuclear bombs are all very present and not unusual. The world is more so set out like our world than the Avatar one, considering countries. It's important you imagine things like this, as the story is set in a big city. Now this is _really _important; the world isn't really divided by Nations. So the entire world is integrated into one big happy multi-cultural planet. But, the original land for the Fire Nation would mostly USA, Canada, South America, Mexico. So the Fire Lord will be the President in this AU. The original Earth Kingdom would be (as the EK is massive) Russia, Europe, Asia, the Middle East, Indonesia, Australia. The original Water Tribe would have been the Antartic and small tribes in Alaska, parts of Russia... The original Air Temples would have been dotted around. So for one, Greenland, New Zealand, Madagascar, Ice Land.

Let's just say Africa is a wild card for now, it's uninhibited.

It's been a while since I've gone ahead and written another long Zutara fic, but I've had this one idea in the works for so long now and I thought that the perfect time to publish it would be during Zutara week! This one doesn't particularly correlate with the prompt _whimsical,_ really. Not at all.

I won't deny that this story has themes of 'Tomorrow When the War Began' but if you _have _read the book, it really isn't anything like it. Okay, I'll stop blabbing. I absolutely adore hearing back from you so if you have the time please review:)!

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN AVATAR OR THE CHARACTERS THEY BELONG TO BRYKE BUT I GUESS YOU ALREADY KNOW THAT OKAY COOL

* * *

_Guerrilla_

**Guerrilla warfare  
**_[(guh- ril -uh)]**  
**noun  
__A form of irregular warfare in which a small group of combatants including, but not limited to, armed civilians (or "irregulars") use military tactics, such as ambushes, sabotage, raids, the element of surprise, and extraordinary mobility to harass a larger and less-mobile traditional army, or strike a vulnerable target, and withdraw almost immediately._

_Chapter One: A brief introduction to warfare_

I survey the soldiers marching below me, a toothpick at the corner of my mouth and my feet up on a decaying, smashed coffee table. I watch the precision in their movements and the way they salute their leader and chant that chant I hear in my nightmares. I can almost _see _the blood on their hands. It's moments like this, that I have no guilt for the fate of the enemy. Once upon a time, I had told myself that I would never, _ever_ turn my back on people who need me, and right now the villagers a few blocks away need me the most.

Hardening my resolve, I grunt with the effort of hoisting up my handmade bomb. I hitch it on my hip precariously, which are far too small for that of a sixteen year old. Living this way would make anyone shed pounds. Sometimes it's better being this lithe- I'm more able to slip through tiny gaps in buildings, which means escaping firebenders.

I walk to the edge of the balcony that I had sought as refuge until my clueless little ants came wondering into my fruit tart. Balancing on the side of the balcony, it's too easy to leap to the next, sprinting along the thin walls on quiet, steady feet, and then jumping to the next and so on until I was a whole block ahead of them.

It was child's play. The soldiers will be caught completely unawares. But that's what they get for invading my home. That's what they get for killing my mother.

"It's time," a voice rouses me from my thoughts. I half smile at him, expecting him to get all soppy on me again. "I can't help but think-"

"Yes Aang, we've heard it all before," I say irately, nearly rolling my eyes. My close friend, although a sweetheart in his own way, is far too compassionate for my liking. After all, not only did the enemy run us out of the country we were born in, America, had the audacity to try and take over our new home in Australia. Sometimes, when I come face to face with one in battle(which is rare, seeing as we fight from the rooftops, the alleys) I want to laugh at them. Idiots, as if no-one would fight back. "There they are. Don't you think that they look a little like ants?"

Aang frowns. "I think they look like innocent men walking right into a trap."

"Innocent?" I spit, I can feel my voice oozing venom. I can taste it on my tongue. "Don't forget that they killed _all _of our mothers! That they burnt down our hou-"

"Yes, okay!" Aang says, putting his hands up defensively. I bite my lip and try to calm down.

As the Avatar, I supposed that he sort of had a duty to seem all loving, and wise. But I sometimes wonder whether or not it would be better if he was more... hateful. That way, he would be able to save the world without a guilty conscience. Even if Aang DID kill President Ozai, barely anything would change. The world wouldn't stop being hungry, just because the Avatar managed to kill some guy who was good with words and war tactics.

That fact was; war works in a sort of domino effect. All sorts of things contribute to it, be it religion, money, politics, poverty- those are merely the dominoes being put into place, each and every one has a different outcome, repercussion. It takes _one _man to kick start it, one blasted man to wind everyone up, tell everyone how to live their lives and, at first it makes sense. People cheer as he gives passionate speeches, they think that this could be it; that he could somehow make a difference.

He does make a difference, but not in the way most people were hoping. But he knows, and we all know, it's far too late to stop it now. First of all, he promises food, jobs, and homes. Then, he invades Cameroon, a small place in the Middle East for oil and coal, and succeeds in getting the country out of its crippling depression but stirs up trouble in the process. He makes a saying _'STRENGTH THROUGH UNITY, UNITY THROUGH STRENGTH.' _He plasters the entire country with this saying. He makes a club for children, where they can wave flags and stand tall and hold their heads high and smile. They dance around like toy soldiers. They force all able men over the age of sixteen to join the army. The country gets strong. It seems suddenly unbeatable.

And then, they start to kill people.

It was all very subtle, at first. Or at least that's what Iroh told us. At the time, I was far too young to remember anything that happened on the news. They only rounded up criminal offenders, people who defied the law and committed 'treason'. It was told that they were being sent to reformation sites, to clean up their act, when in actual fact they were being gassed or shot. Soon, it was those considered to be 'ethnic minorities' who were sent to the death camps. Ethnic minorities being a broad term for anyone who was not a firebender, or of a Fire Nation heritage. People got scared, riots occurred, and then it happened.

The mass genocide.

I shudder. "Listen to them chanting. They think they're invincible."

"But-" I shoot him a harsh glance. "But… Better them, than us," Aang murmurs somewhat reluctantly. I shake my head.

"Better them than innocent civilians. I've seen enough genocide and rape for a lifetime."

The chanting grows stronger, it sounds like an irritable white noise in my head. It drives me insane, those chants. The animosity of the words, the way that the soldiers sung with such blinding, riveting passion, it makes my stomach churn.

"On the count of three?" Aang asks softly. I nod, feeling a sense of disquiet in the air as when dogs sense the approach of a storm. I know what's going to happen when that bomb drops, I know how many people are going to die, and how many people are doing to live- not that it's a life worth living. They'll have their legs blown to bits. It's a curse, being so aware of war and its effects.

"As soon as I drop this bomb we've gotta get out of here," I say, seeing a dark image in my mind of fire and screaming and Aang being burnt alive. When I raise my gaze to him, he grins, a light glinting in his eye. He pointed to his chest smugly.

"Hello? Airbender?"

I chuckle at him, and then putting one foot on the ledge of the balcony and standing upright, I patiently wait for Aang's countdown. "One," I flick the on switch on the bomb. "Two," I take a deep breath and try to slow my pulse. "Three!"

I feel the heavy explosive slip from my fingertips and I watch it fall for a moment, wondering for a second, _only _a split second that maybe… maybe all of this is wrong.

Aang pulls me into his arms. He takes a mighty leap from the balcony up onto the roof of the apartments, and we were off. The way he moves reminds me of the flying squirrels I had once studied in Biology, when everything was peaceful and sweet and the Agni's hadn't started killing people.

Although not actually in flight, Aang swoops through the air with uncanny elegance and ease. He leaps from building to building with myself in his arms, the wind rushes past my ears and chills my skin.

We're in mid-air when the bomb goes off, it threw us backward and Aang had to hastily land on half a telephone tower. Half because it's top had been completely blown off, I guess it was by one of the various air raids that had hit Finley. Had it not been for Sokka adamant we stop the soldiers, I would have left right away after hearing the explosion. But both Aang and I had this job entrusted to us, so we followed orders.

Aang takes us to where I had let go of the bomb. Or at least, as close as possible to it. I can't help but let my jaw drop as I see the road that the soldiers had marched on completely incinerated, and flaming bodies dotted everywhere.

There is no sign of survivors.

* * *

_Katara aged 6, USA, Denver. _

"...Professionals are speculating whether or not this is the onset of a nuclear war, any comments that are being made to the President at this time are being met with the same frivolous answer; The USA national government is not at liberty to discuss the possible circumstances to the Invasion of Cameroon as of late..." The news flicker buzzed on our old television set, the room was lazy with the shine of early morning. I looked at Mom, and quickly noted that my mother was holding her chin with four sharp fingers, oblivious to the red welts appearing there.

"Mom," I murmured worriedly, it seemed to snap her back to reality, out of her television trance. She did that a lot, these days. The look on her face, made me suddenly not want to ask her why she was scratching herself. She looked hurt enough. Feeling that blue gaze on me, I asked something that had been confusing me for a while. I felt under pressure, so I began plaiting my Mermaid Barbie's hair. "What's a nuclear war?"

Mom looked down for a minute, and then back up. She opened her mouth, and then shut it. Finally, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose tightly.

I felt upset about that. Like she didn't want to talk to me, or I had said something stupid. But then she opened her arms to me and I ran into her, smelling that smell of powder and perfume and wholeness.

"Darling," she crooned in my ear, "you shouldn't concern yourself with things like that."

My lips pouted, my eyebrows knitted together. "Is it stuff for grown-ups?"

"Yes," Mom said sighing, "it's stuff for grown-ups."

And with that, I was satisfied, hopping off her lap and back to plaiting my Barbie's hair.

I liked that Barbie, not because she had a little waist or a big bust, but because she was a mermaid. She is a little bit of an outcast, like me. I'm a waterbender. I didn't know what that meant really. All I knew was that Mom said I had to go to these classes and master waterbending because it was a great part of our heritage, and I should respect it.

At the same time, she told me not to use my powers in public, or even tell anybody I had them. When I asked her why, she told me it was because people could get so jealous of my powers, they would snap me up-she picked me up and pretended to chomp my arm- and steal them. I said, with wide eyes, is that possible? And she told me that it was, but not in so many words. I wondered what she meant by that.

Following her word, rather than her warning, I didn't use waterbending outside of my lessons or tell anyone about it. I wasn't upset, because I knew it was wrong to hurt people, and that was the _last _thing I wanted to do.

I heard Mom and Dad arguing a lot about my bending. Dad said how it was dangerous for us to be here because of Katara. Mom asked what he meant and he said she's a waterbender, and then something about death camps that scared me a lot. I went to bed that night and dreamt of a campsite, with loads of green tepee tents, and there were skulls dotted all over the place. I went into one of the tents and saw a skeleton playing poker with Mom, and woke up crying and shaking and yelling for her.

Dad said that we should leave the country, but Mom said that if we did, we would be letting them win. I didn't know who 'they' were, exactly. All I knew was that my bending was causing trouble and because of that I hated it _and_ myself.

On the nights where the arguing got really bad, I padded into Sokka's room and get into bed with him. Then I would cry, and he would cry, and we would hold each onto other and sob boogers and salty tears into each other's pyjama's, then Sokka would get hiccups, and I would laugh at him because he sounded funny, and we would both start laughing and fall asleep from the exhaustion of it all.

In the morning, I would go get my Barbie from the main room and plait her hair again and again.


End file.
